affection has followed me from childhood, remember me. My early love for
lyric harmony had led me to a fondness for the more sublime scenes of
dramatic poetry. I embraced every leisure moment to write verses; I even
fancied that I could compose a tragedy, and more than once
unsuccessfully attempted the arduous undertaking.

The dancing-master at Oxford House, Mr. Hussey, was then ballet-master
at Covent Garden Theatre. Mrs. Hervey, the governess, mentioned me to
him as possessing an extraordinary genius for dramatic exhibitions. My
figure was commanding for my age, and (my father's pecuniary
embarrassments augmenting by the failure of another American project) my
mother was consulted as to the propriety of my making the stage my
profession. Many cited examples of females who, even in that perilous
and arduous situation, preserved an unspotted fame, inclined her to
listen to the suggestion, and to allow of my consulting some master of
the art as to my capability of becoming an ornament to the theatre.

Previous to this idea my father had again quitted England. He left his
wife with assurances of good-will, his children with all the agonies of
parental regret. When he took leave of my mother, his emphatic words
were these,--I never shall forget them--"Take care that no dishonour
falls upon my daughter. If she is not safe at my return, I will
annihilate you!" My mother heard the stern injunction, and trembled
while he repeated it.

I was, in consequence of my wish to appear on the stage, introduced to
Mr. Hull,[6] of Covent Garden Theatre; he then resided in King Street,
Soho. He heard me recite some passages of the character of Jane Shore,
and seemed delighted with my attempt. I was shortly after presented by a
friend of my mother's, to Mr. Garrick;[7] Mr. Murphy,[8] the celebrated